


Heaven's Too Far Away

by Lunabell_Marauder_Knyte



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-15 13:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunabell_Marauder_Knyte/pseuds/Lunabell_Marauder_Knyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock sits in John's chair with Hamish on his lap. Together they watch old home videos of when John was alive. They miss him dearly but they have each other to help them get through his death. JohnLock. Character death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven's Too Far Away

Sherlock leans down at Hamish's eye level and helps adjust his tie. The little boy's normally bright blue eyes that held excitement for the world around him were dull and his face expressionless if not a little somber. His straight blonde hair hasn't been cut in a while so it nearly covers his eyes. He's dressed similarly to Sherlock. In a black suit for mourning.

That look in his son's eyes make Sherlock's chest ache. He places his hands on Hamish's shoulders and slides his hands down his arms and stands. Sherlock leans down and kisses Hamish on the forehead.

"Ready?" the detective asks while holding out his hand.

The little boy does nothing but nod and grabs his father's hand. Together they exit the room and leave the flat. They go down the stair and enter the black government car that waited them. Inside Mycroft and his PA were already sitting there. Also dressed in black and somber expressions on their faces that only Sherlock would be able to see. To other people they would seem as expressionless as always. This time however, in John's memory, Anthea isn't typing away at her Blackberry.

They soon arrive at the cemetery. There were already some people there and it wasn't long before there was a giant group surrounding the open grave. Hamish stands next to Sherlock still holding his hand and looking into the grave and staring at the closed casket. Sherlock stared from the casket to his son. He then stares in front of him to meet the glares of John's remaining family.

They hated him. For what happened to John, for keeping Hamish, and showing his face here.

But this wasn't about them. It was about John. And John was his husband. He was also Hamish's legal guardian and his son had all the right to be here for his father's ceremony.

Sherlock barely listens to what is being said. He was asked to speak in front of everyone and say a few words about John. At first he declined but Hamish got him to agree. He stands in front of everyone but focuses on Hamish.

"John Hamish Watson was probably one of the most ordinary men I thought I would ever meet. He was so normal I...I didn't think I'd know him long. But he proved me wrong, which isn't something just anyone can do. He stood by me even after  _getting to know_  me. He...he was a godsend. He was the order that withstood every ounce of chaos in this world...He was always there whether it was convenient or not. He would do favors but never anything that he felt strongly against. He seemed to always be nice, but that didn't mean he allowed others to push him over. That wasn't who he was. He was a hero, far more than just another soldier...I wish to believe that...It wasn't that evil won, though that was how it felt, but I rather wish to believe that John was the embodiment...the definition of what it meant to be a hero. That would be logical, that would make sense. For that's what heroes do. They fight and they parish, yes, but only to show the rest of us what it means to be brave and noble and good...John passed away protecting our son Hamish...even though I wished he would have survived as well, I thank him for I doubt either of us would have survived had anything happened to him. John may be gone, but the good he did for the world isn't. Hamish remains, and so long as he does I will embrace John's lessons and carry on with a brave and steady heart."

A few more people talked but Sherlock stopped paying attention. His focus back on Hamish, with some stray thoughts on John. Time passed it and it was time to drop flowers on John's casket. Sherlock picks up Hamish and helps him drop the white flower. While the rest of the crowd reforms, they head further away and stand under a tree.

Mycroft and Anthea are soon with them. They stand in silence and watch the crowd. It was full of ordinary mundane people. John's army friends, his staff and friends from St. Barts. Lestrade, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, and some few from the Yard that liked John. Some of his ex girlfriends he's stayed friends with. And of course John's family. Or what's left of it. A cousin or two Sherlock has never met, his mother and his sister. John's father having died during one of John's tours.

Hamish pulls on his pants leg to get his attention, "Yes Hamish?"

"Can we go?"

"Yes," Sherlock replies and picked up his son and the four head away. No one notices their departure minus a few.

Mycroft and Anthea drop off Sherlock and Hamish at 221B and asks, "Is there anything you need?"

"Nothing you can give me," Sherlock replies and carries Hamish inside.

He sets Hamish down and tells him he's free to go change. Hamish being six years old he was in his independent stage and asked to do these tasks by himself. When 20 minutes passed Sherlock went up to Hamish's room(John's old one) and knocked. "Hamish? Are you alright?"

Sherlock enters and his heart immediately wrenches when he sees Hamish on his bed silently crying while looking at an old photo album.

The consulting detective sits on the bed with his son and stares at the photos as well. They were on John and Hamish in his younger years. Sherlock being absent in all of them. There were pictures of the two blonde at birthday parties, the park, in stores, at the beach, in a cafe, and in their own flat.

"I miss him," Hamish said quietly.

"Me too," Sherlock replied.

"I'm never going to see him again am I?" Hamish murmurs.

"...No. Not physically," Sherlock answered.

"He's really gone," Hamish states.

Sherlock shakes his head, "Not completely. I wasn't lying at the service. You're here. You're a part of him. You look like him...you have his hair, and his eyes, and his nose. I'm sure you'll have his characteristics too. And you have memories of him in your mind. So long as you hang on to those...John will never truly be gone."

Hamish sniffs and nods. He closes the album and leans into Sherlock's touch, "They're not going to take me away right?"

By they he means John's family. They tried, oh they tried very hard. And maybe it was a bit selfish of Sherlock but Hamish was the last of John and he wasn't going to give it up. And Hamish wanted to stay with him. Mycroft made it so Hamish was untouchable.

"Never. You're mine...my little Watson," Sherlock replies gently and they fall back onto the bed together.

"I'm tired father..." Hamish said

"I think we both deserve a nap. But after we wake up you need to eat something," Sherlock said.

"You too," Hamish countered.

Sherlock smiled a small smile and kissed Hamish's forehead and replied, "Yeah...me too."

Sherlock waited until Hamish was asleep before he closed his own eyes. He was tired. God he was so very tired. His mind that used to be like a never stopping engine had finally stopped. No data could be processed, nothing could enter and be analyzed, for once his mind has stopped. It stopped with John's death. The only thing that slightly made him think, made him feel the tiniest bit alive, was Hamish. Had it not been for his little one, he would have immediately followed John to the other side without a second thought. He only eats because Hamish needs to eat and won't do so without seeing Sherlock take a bite of something too. John had told him stories about him and his struggles to feed the detective.

Sherlock wasn't sure exactly what Hamish took from the stories but knew that eating and sleep were important, and refused to do either if Sherlock didn't. He was taking care of Sherlock just like John had, in his own way.

As Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes for whatever sleep may come to him, he wasn't left dreamless. They weren't necessarily dreams, but memories. Memories of what led to all this.

.:~*~:.

Hamish had been the result of an affair with a woman while Sherlock was 'dead'. They never talked about her, even Hamish never asked. Though he was too young to understand the norm of a parent-child house hold. For him it was normal to have two dads and no mother. Though John had raised him for a year by himself with Sherlock still 'dead' and Mary having died at giving birth.

The love between them had been so very raw when they reunited. For about a year or two they were a family. An odd family but a family nonetheless.

Then things got a bit too domestic for Sherlock. John had accepted normality and domestic the moment Hamish was conceived. Even more so when the young blonde had been born. It kept John alive and out of depression while Sherlock was gone. Hamish had become his life.

It started very slowly. Sherlock would take one too many cases, but John told himself he understood. Then it just derailed out of control. There would be days without seeing the detective. Plans of normal meetings, diners, and outing would be canceled for the sake of the case. Then they would get more complex and Sherlock's mind out make him lash out when he couldn't figure it out.

Finally when Sherlock completely forgot Hamish's third birthday after weeks of planning, and he didn't even have a case, was the last straw that broke the camels back.

John gave him an ultimatum. Them, or the cases.

Irritated by John's...common place problem, he spat that the cases would always take top priority. "Besides, he's  _your_  son." were the words that sealed the deal.

The next day while Sherlock was running around getting the evidence to imprison a ritual killer, John had used his time to pack up and leave. There were no traces of either him or Hamish when Sherlock had returned. For a few days he was numb and no one heard of him. The fourth day he jumped back on into the game with fervor. If anyone asked him, he'd ignore them. When someone would mention John or Hamish he''d glare at them, and deduce them until they cried.

New cases, cold cases, no matter how many he made he agreed that it wasn't enough. That something was missing.

When Mycroft arrived at 221B with video of John and Hamish and left without a word, Sherlock would ignore it for ten minutes. He'd watch the CCTV and person PI clips of his former lover and son. They seemed happy.

But Sherlock would only watch once every two weeks and only for an hour. He had things to do, crimes to solve, and criminals to apprehend.

This lasted for three years.

Then another criminal surfaced and caught his attention. He called himself the Reaper. The crimes themselves were nothing like with Moriarty but they were far above the normal mundane criminal. When he was close to catching him the criminal wanted to make a deal with Sherlock. That was his thing. Making deals, but Sherlock didn't accept it. The criminal, who had called, chuckled darkly into the phone and replied, "You should have accepted that deal." and hung up.

The next crime scene he strolled in ignoring everyone there. He went up. His first clue that something was wrong was when Anderson instantly and wordlessly turned and walked away. No sneering comment or anything. The second clue was Donovan's biting her lip and internal debate and a bit more insistent of keeping him away. Not because he was 'interfering with police work' either. It was, dare he think it, for his own emotional good?

Then he saw Lestrade and how his face darkened, "Sherlock...you can't come in here."

"Why?"

"We've got it here...you should just go back to your flat," the DI said.

"Where's the Reaper? That is, _if you got it_ ," Sherlock replied with a roll of his eyes and sauntered in anyway.

On the wall with the recent victims blood was written, "You should have taken the deal". A picture was stabbed on the wall next to the engraving. In the picture, a very very recent picture, was of John and Hamish.

Sherlock didn't even hesitate to get into the black government car when he saw it. He knew his brother knew that there was no way he wasn't going to go to John and Hamish. The black government car went at high speed, having its own sirens but also being escorted and followed by other copper cars, as they raced towards John's apartment.

Sherlock arrived first and he didn't bother waiting for Lestrade or anyone. Sherlock grabbed the gun that was in the car and went right in. The flat had been too quiet. When he entered John's room a sob made it's way up his throat when he saw the bloody and pale and motionless body next to the bed. He didn't give himself the chance to go to him though. He saw movement by the window and let loose all the bullets. When the body fell he went to it quickly but the Reaper had been wearing a bullet proof vest. Sherlock however was  _very_  angry. He kicked away the Reapers gun and started to fight with him. Though the Reaper did get in a few good shots Sherlock was far too angry. He punched the Reaper until he was unconscious and didn't stop until Lestrade came in and pulled him away, bloody and panting.

Looking at the now dead Reaper Sherlock immediately went over to the body...John's body, and hugged it tightly. He sobbed and made apologies and promises and bargains, none of them heard by John. Then he snapped up, face pale and bloody and he screamed, not caring who was there to see him so vulnerable, "HAMISH!"

He looked for the little boy until he arrived to John's work place. There was a hamper like chest that using his deducing skills Sherlock realized was where the little boy was hiding. When he opened the hamper and saw the scared little eyes staring back at him Sherlock smiled sadly and helped the boy out.

"Where's daddy?" Hamish asked as he stood in front of a kneeling Sherlock and wiped away the older man's tears.

Sherlock choked back a sob and just hugged Hamish tightly to him.

 

.:~*~:.

It was very hard, Sherlock realized, explaining to a child that their parent was dead. Not that Hamish had any difficulty understanding the concept of death. John being a doctor had explained it before, but it was different now. It was personal. And heartbreaking.

The first few nights Sherlock would find Hamish looking for John. And once more he'd have to explain that John was gone. He was never really a religious man but he preferred his little boy thinking for the moment that John was happy in heaven.

"Can we visit daddy in heaven father?" Hamish asked quietly after he finished his explanation.

Sherlock gulped back the emotion that rose inside of him and shook his head, "I'm afraid heaven's too far away Hamish."

"Can daddy come visit us then? Just a little while? I miss him," Hamish replied.

"I'm so sorry Hamish, but no. Daddy can't visit us either."

 

.:~*~:.

 

Right after John's death his mother and his sister had come and demanded Hamish be turned over to them, but Sherlock didn't allow it. He'd forced them out of 221B and locked himself and Hamish inside until Mycroft texted and told him he had taken care of everything.

All that was left was John's funeral.

.:~*~:.

When he woke up Hamish was already awake and picking lint off of his blanket. Sherlock stood and carried Hamish with him, "Come on. Lets get something to eat."

When they made it to the living room there is already some take out for them from Angelo's. These are some of the very few times he doesn't mind his brother's interfering. He served them a small amount each, knowing they both don't want to eat, but have to. For each other, for John.

When they're done Sherlock puts on a video and he sits in John's chair with Hamish on his lap and together they watch the home videos John had made of himself and Hamish.

_John was chasing after a young Hamish who was kicking around a foot(soccer) ball. When Hamish kicked it into the child goal post John picked him up from under his armpits and lifted him onto his good shoulder and cheered, "Hamish Watson! The best football player ever!" Hamish just giggled happily._

_Then they went to the table where a small birthday cake awaited Hamish. "Happy birthday Hamish! Blow out the candle. We have to practice for later when we go to Chuckie Cheese."_

_Hamish blew on the candles but it was more of a raspberry. Hamish pouted and said to John, "Daddy help me!"_

_John chuckled and stood next to Hamish, "On three okay? One, two, three!" they both blew out the candles successfully and John cheered for Hamish and hugged him close and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Then he turned to the camera and said, "Wave to papa. Tell him hi!"_

" _Hi papa! I love you!" Hamish yelled to the camera. Even though they were separated John still wanted Sherlock to be recognized as a father by Hamish. He also knew what Mycroft did so he'd send him copies of their home videos and he would mention Sherlock in them as well._

They stayed like that and watched many hours of videos until Sherlock noticed it was getting late.

"Time for bed Hamish," Sherlock whispered.

"Can I sleep with you again?" Hamish mumbled in reply.

"Sure buddy," Sherlock said as he picked Hamish up and kissed the top of his head.


End file.
